Female Bonding
by rosenbaumgirl23
Summary: *NINE up!* F/F slash; if that's not your thing, don't read
1. These are Just a Couple of my Cravings.....

Couple(s): ChLana  
  
Rating: PG-13; for slash  
  
Disclaimer: Everything but the plot belongs to someone other than me.  
  
Spoilers for: 'Nicodemus', 'Stray', a reference to 'Crush'  
  
Author's Note: The first line got stuck in my head, and I said, 'I should turn that into a fic!' So, for better or worse, here it is. Chloe's POV. If f/f slash isn't your thing, I don't recommend this one.  
  
Female Bonding  
  
******  
  
It would have been fine if I hadn't opened my mouth. I find myself saying that more and more lately, but do I remember to stop opening my mouth at inopportune moments? Of course not. So, yes, I imagine if I *had* learned to think before I speak, the other day might not have happened.  
  
Lana wasn't the same after Mister Fordman's funeral; by 'not the same', I mean she was no longer bouncy or pathetic; she acted like a normal person instead of a teenybopper cheerleader. This would have been a welcome change, had I paid attention to her at the time.  
  
Of course, I was too distracted by the wonder known as Clark Kent to notice his number one obsession. Rather, she *used* to be his number one obsession...after the funeral--after Clark asked me to the Spring Formal-- things were weird between the three of us, so I was no longer sure where we all stood.  
  
To get back to Lana, and the latest reason why my rambling got me into an uncomfortable situation; a week or two before said formal--and my date with aforementioned wondrous farm boy--Lana sought me out in the *Torch* offices after school, looking concerned.  
  
"Chloe?" she began in that soft voice of hers.  
  
I glanced up from my laptop long enough to encourage her to state her purpose. "Yeah?"  
  
"Do you have a dress for the formal?"  
  
Of course I had a bloody dress for the bloody formal; Clark's surrogate little brother Ryan somehow found out about it and told Clark. I shouldn't be too annoyed at the kid--for one thing, I don't know how he knew about said dress--since he more or less convinced Clark to ask me out. Anyway, as far as I'm aware, Lana knew none of this; so I nodded in response to her question.  
  
"Oh." Her face fell even more.  
  
"Something you need?" I muttered, needing to finish my article.  
  
"I wanted you to go dress shopping with me, actually."  
  
*That* piqued my curiosity. Lana Lang--former cheerleader, brunette beauty who drives high-school boys mad with sick desire--wanted me to go shopping with her. Shopping! Me! With Lana! Needless to say, it wasn't high on my list of things to accomplish before I was, say, ninety. However, I knew she was hurting, and she had been trying to befriend me all year. I reluctantly acquiesced.  
  
"Well, okay. I do need to get some makeup." I expected her to give me that saccharine grin of hers and leave. But, instead, she stood there, apparently waiting for something. "Anything else you need to say to me?" I admit I'm never very kind when I'm in 'no prisoners' mode; I'm rarely ever nice to Lana, period.  
  
She blinked, stepped farther into the office. "I meant go right now."  
  
Oh. "Oh."  
  
"I-Is that okay with you?" Lana never stutters; I thought that needed mentioning.  
  
Here it comes; the part where my flapping lips should have stayed closed. "Sure."  
  
If I'd thought about it, I could have said, 'no; right now isn't a good time'. Then I could have 'forgotten' about the shopping trip until after the formal. But, since I don't think--and since I had no conceivable idea that something unexpected would happen on aforementioned trip--I agreed to spend a few hours wandering around the mall in search of a dress for my semi-arch enemy.  
  
It was time for me to put myself on the Wall.  
  
******  
  
Sears was our first stop on what had the potential to be a fascinating afternoon; I would get to experience, firsthand, what it was like to shop with an average superficial, teenage girl. I followed her to the Juniors' department, where we were assaulted by the sort of music I imagine you'd hear in the infamous Club Zero; or a cheap knock-off of that music, anyway.  
  
Lana grabbed my arm and dragged me over to a fluffy pink monstrosity. I hoped she wasn't going to ask my opinion; I'm not one for sugar-coating. "Isn't this horrid?" she asked, sounding like she meant it.  
  
I was impressed by her attitude. "It looks like a birthday cake!" I added with a grin. She sure had changed for the better; at least a little. "What kind of dress are you looking for?" It wouldn't torture me to help; picking out my own dress had been fun, despite having to share that area of the store with several bleach-blonde bimbos.  
  
Biting her lip in thought, Lana flipped through a sale rack; a gaudy sign above it read 'Twenty Percent Off' in neon letters. "I don't know; I'm thinking black this year. I've worn pink to special events for years; thought I'd give Whitney a break." She flashed me a friendly grin, and I felt myself smiling back. "What's your dress look like?"  
  
Thinking about the garment hiding in my closet made me think of Clark. Thinking about Clark made me think about his arms, and his lips, and his goofy grin...she asked a question. I knew I had to somehow block Clark out of my head for a few hours. "It's magenta, strapless, and silky. Dad wasn't sure about it at first, but then I assured him I'd wear a wrap." What was I doing talking about clothes?  
  
"Sounds nice; I'd love to help you get ready before the formal." Was it my imagination, or was Lana Lang suggesting that we 'hang out' again?  
  
"Uh, sure. Dad isn't too good with makeup, you know," I joked, trying to cover up the fact that I was blushing; the insecure part of my brain decided she was taking pity on poor, girl friendless me. Then it struck me that she had no real friends, either. Yes, she hung out with the jocks and cheerleaders--despite quitting the squad--but think about that; jocks and cheerleaders aren't exactly the type to get really close to someone. (Just to make a broad, yet disturbingly true, generalization.)  
  
"What do you think of this?" The dress in question was gold and short with spaghetti straps. I knew it would look fabulous on her, though I didn't say that in so many words. "'s nice."  
  
I suddenly needed coffee. I do that sometimes; get cappuccino cravings for no apparent reason. Pete implies that I'm addicted; whatever.  
  
I located another sale rack--'30 percent off!'--and idly riffled through it. None of the dresses looked like 'Lana'--even though I barely knew her, I could make that assumption--except for one I found at the very end. "How's this?" I called, walking it over to her.  
  
She stopped what she was doing and observed the item on the hangar. It was black, knee-length, and off the shoulder. The top was cut just low enough to show a bit of cleavage. "Wow. I'm definitely going to try that one on." Slinging that over her arm, along with the gold one, she returned to her browsing.  
  
When the rest of the rack yielded nothing else, she yanked me to the dressing room--she's much stronger than she looks. "Come in with me; so you can zip me up and all that." I was given no choice in the matter, so I joined her in the cubicle.  
  
Off went her jeans and peach t-shirt. She was wearing silky red underwear with a matching lacy bra. But I didn't notice. She slid her tiny body into the gold dress, sucking in her stomach unconsciously. I did that when I went shopping; I think all high school girls are wont to do the same. "Zip, would you?"  
  
I did, careful not to snag the fabric. When I stepped back, she twirled around slowly. "It's comfy; what do you think?"  
  
I very rarely envy anyone, for any reason. At the beginning of the year, I envied Lana because Clark was so passionately in lust with her; I decided later that she couldn't really help that, so I stopped feeling that way. When I observed her in the dress, however, I was suddenly filled with such intense envy that I couldn't breathe.  
  
Lana has one of those bodies that men drool over and women want; her legs are long and shapely--from years of cheerleading, I guess--her stomach is nice and flat, her hips are disturbingly perfect. I decided that she's probably never had trouble finding a pair of jeans that fit comfortably. I won't go into her perfect back half.  
  
"I...I like it," I managed, sinking onto the single, tiny chair that took up half the space. I wanted to have her figure so badly; I still consider myself to be a little overweight and not physically attractive. I'm tired of only being liked for my wit; just once I want a guy to look at my body and whistle inwardly...I bet that happens to Lana all the time.  
  
With a nod, she stepped out of that one and into the black one. When I zipped the second one, I caught a whiff of baby powder and vanilla from the back of her neck. Unconsciously I leaned forward a bit.  
  
"Chloe?" she asked curiously, twisting her head around to peer at me.  
  
I didn't know what I was doing. "Oh, sorry," I muttered, moving as far away from her as I could. "No problem." She spun in front of the mirror and smoothed the front of the garment. "Wow, this is gorgeous," she breathed.  
  
The black material--it looked like fake velvet--contrasted beautifully with her golden skin and made her legs look twice as long. I had to remind myself to breathe out. "Wow," I whispered in awe. The envy was taking over.  
  
She smiled at me. It wasn't her usual, always-friendly grin. No, this one spoke of trust and intimacy. Then her soft hands were in mine, tugging me to my feet. All I could do was stand, and let her corner me against the wall; the rational, decision-making section of my brain was short-circuiting.  
  
I kept my bisexuality a secret for years; my attraction to girls was a subtle thing: every once in a while I'd notice a stranger on the street or, dare I say it, a cheerleader and want to be with that woman so deeply it would hurt. No one knew, and, in fact, I didn't like to acknowledge it.  
  
That's why I told myself that I was envious of her body. Certainly that was part of it, but most of me just wanted *her*. I had never exactly had a crush on her before, though I'd found myself staring at her; I just told myself that I secretly admired her strength, her happiness, her self- control.  
  
Still grasping my hands, she pinned me against the wall. We were both gasping for breath--me from shock, her from...want, I decided after looking into her eyes. It was the intensity in their deep brown depths that made me long to kiss her.  
  
"Chloe, did you ever stop to think about who I was jealous of?" she whispered, her mouth centimeters from mine.  
  
"What?"  
  
Lana smirked. "You thought I was jealous of you, I'm sure. Jealous because you and Clark are going to the Formal together; that's the cause of my jealousy, but it's Clark that I want out of the picture." This *dominating* Lana hadn't made an appearance since the Nicodemus flower incident; I wasn't sure what to think. Not that I could think clearly just then.  
  
"You like me," I gasped, not processing the information.  
  
"I more than like you, Chloe. I *need* you; you're so unique, so unflappable. I was envious of your ability to avoid conforming, but then I realized that I wanted you to be mine..." And she kissed me.  
  
You'd assume that her kisses were tentative and polite; when you watch her with Whitney, it certainly seems that way. But, no--she knows what she's doing, and she does it well. The kiss was hot, deep, intense, hungry...I thought my head would explode.  
  
After several seconds, I found myself kissing her back, twisting around so *she* was against the wall. Her pulse was thudding in her neck-- I felt it against my lips--and I knew my own was racing.  
  
"Oh, yeah, I can't wait to see how this dress looks!" We broke apart, guilty, when a few more girls waltzed into the dressing area. The door was closed, so we had nothing to worry about, but Lana still shot me a wide- eyed glance.  
  
"You'd better get changed," I whispered dumbly. "We still have to look for shoes and makeup." "Uh huh." I turned around while she changed, though I was facing the mirror; thus I could se everything she did.  
  
"Lana," I spoke up, catching her hand before she could leave, "don't be embarrassed about what we just did."  
  
She smiled slightly. "I'm not. In fact, I wouldn't mind doing it again some time."  
  
Licking my lips, I nodded. "So would I."  
  
Her eyes narrowed slyly. "Maybe we should go to Macy's so I can try on more dresses."  
  
My heart beat faster. "Okay."  
  
My hand was in hers; after putting back the black and gold dresses, we were rushing for another store.  
  
Never did I think that shopping with Lana could be so fun.  
  
FINIS 


	2. You Smashed in with Your Eyes

Couple(s): ChLana  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Disclaimer: Everything but the plot belongs to someone other than me. The lovely Rufus Wainwright owns himself, the gorgeous song, 'Tower of Learning', and the line I borrowed from that song.  
  
Spoilers for: nothing, I don't think.  
  
Author's Note: I started this whole fic while taking a break from 'I Alone' and my as-of-yet unposted CC piece. One of the three has to take a backseat to the others, and I'm hoping it's not this one. If I don't update this for a while, that's why. Lana's POV  
  
******  
  
You'd think things would have been awkward between us following the kiss, wouldn't you? Sure, Chloe seemed a little nervous around me the next day, but she's always like that at school; especially when she has to meet a deadline for the *Torch*.  
  
Other than that, she was cheerful and friendly. I met her at her locker before first period--our classes were next to each other, so I thought I'd walk her--and she greeted me with a bright smile. "Hey, Lana."  
  
God, she's beautiful; that day she wore a khaki mini skirt and a long- sleeved shirt that looked like it was covered in rainbow graffiti. Those were 'in style', so I was surprised to see her wearing one. Then I looked at her footwear, and I grinned: she wore fishnet stockings with black combat boots. *That's my Chloe,* I thought; then did a double take. *Why the hell did I just think that?*  
  
"Hi, Chloe. Can I walk you to first period?"  
  
She nodded and grabbed some books from the top shelf of her locker. I noticed, with interest, that no photos of Clark adorned the red metal door. Instead, she'd taped up newspaper clippings, a picture of a woman who had to have been her mother--I made a mental note to ask her about that- -and a post card from Australia.  
  
"Who do you know who's been to Australia?" I wondered. I'd always dreamed of going there to ride.  
  
Her eyebrows raised and she looked confused. Then she, apparently, remembered the postcard. "Oh. My cousin Lois got to go there for a school trip a couple of months ago; she's a high school senior, and it was a school paper thingy."  
  
That was interesting. We set off down the hall, close enough that our hips were touching. "Your cousin works for her school paper too?"  
  
A pretty laugh escaped her equally pretty lips. "Yeah, Lois and I are the family outcasts."  
  
Knowing what little I did about her father--Lex Luthor's Assistant Manager, fairly straight-laced, loved his daughter even though he doesn't understand her all the time--I couldn't say if I thought that was true. "Can I see you after school today? Like at the Talon?"  
  
The first question made her stop and give me an odd, slight smile; the second made her break into a full-on smirk. "How about the Beanery? I know the Talon is your pride and joy, but you don't exactly make the best coffee." Pause, while we loitered outside her classroom. "Sorry if I insulted you." Never have I heard her apologize for anything. (Well, okay, there was the time she said she was sorry for making a 'pom-pom' crack, but she's never taken anything back since then.)  
  
"No, you didn't; many people have complained about my coffee-making abilities." This was extremely true. "The Beanery is fine; meet you there around four?"  
  
The bell rang, telling potentially tardy students to get inside their rooms. We were jostled by one of Whitney's jock friends, though he didn't stop to apologize. "Uh, sure. Bye, Lana."  
  
"Bye, Chloe." I watched her walk into the room--looking carefree and confident, like she refused to take crap from anyone--then headed into my own class. Suddenly I couldn't wait for the day to be over.  
  
******  
  
It occurred to me, while I was waiting for her several hours later, that I didn't know what to do about Whitney; I hadn't wanted to be with him for a while, and I wanted to be with Chloe so badly that I was prepared to dump him on the spot--mourning or not.  
  
I knew it was cruel to even think about hurting him so soon after Mister Fordman's death, but I was smothered by him. The only reason why I started dating him in the first place was to 'keep up appearances', so to speak. Not many people would be comfortable with the idea of a lesbian cheerleader; especially not the rest of the squad. And so I kept my sexuality under wraps.  
  
Then there was the 'Clark situation'; until something clicked in his brain a few weeks ago, he'd had a huge crush on me. A few times, when he was obviously trying his best to flirt with me, I almost told him why I really humor him: because I'm in mad lust with his best friend. That also would have been cruel, so I put up with him.  
  
"Hi, sorry to make you wait," Chloe gasped. Judging from her flushed cheeks and disheveled blonde hair, she'd run from school.  
  
"No problem. I got you a no-fat, no-foam latte." I held up the tall cup, smiled.  
  
With a grin and a sigh, she sank onto the plush seat across from me. "You're the best," she whispered, giving me a secret look. I was warm all over; and not from my coffee.  
  
Even though I didn't want to bring it up, the issue had to be addressed. "Chloe, what are we doing?"  
  
Her eyebrows cocked--I barely stopped myself from leaping across the table and making out with her--and she shrugged. "We're having coffee and talking, like friends do."  
  
*Friends* The way she said it left no room for interpretation; she considered us 'friends'. "Don't you want," I licked my lips, "to be more than that?" The last part came out in a whisper; I was feeling self- conscious about revealing to my long-time crush that I'm gay.  
  
Chloe set down her beverage and drummed her long, slender fingers against the shiny square table. The silence was unbearable. "I don't know, Lana," she said finally.  
  
She might as well have ripped out my heart and stomped on it. "Oh."  
  
She grasped my hand, rubbed my palm with her thumb. "Lana," she whispered, "I'm just going to need some time; this 'finally having a relationship with a woman' thing hasn't exactly sunk in yet. I'll make up my mind soon, as long as you're patient."  
  
The way she'd phrased part of her response piqued my curiosity. "What do you mean, '*finally* having a relationship with a woman'?"  
  
A blush crept up her cheeks. *Is she ever 'not' gorgeous?* "Oh, um, I'm [mumble]."  
  
*Did she say what I think she just....* "It's okay, Chloe. I'm-I'm not straight." I found that that was the less-shocking way to say it; though I'd only told the daughter of a family friend.  
  
Her icy blue eyes bored into mine. "Okay. It's best to say that I'm straight...most of the time."  
  
Ah ha. There was one more question: "so you still like Clark, right?"  
  
Maybe she picked up on the pathetic sorrow in my voice, maybe not; either way, Chloe's hand tightened around mine, and she smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry about that, Lana; I like Clark a lot, but I have a feeling dating my best friend will be really uncomfortable. Besides, you know, I really want to be with a girl at some point in my life. Might as well be now."  
  
Twenty minutes went by without her being sarcastic; that alone should have told me something. "Yes, might as well. Um-" I was nervous again, "- want to go to my house? Hang out, maybe?"  
  
To my relief, she nodded enthusiastically. Styrofoam coffee cups in hand, we started for Nell's and my house. Luckily my aunt was out with some new boyfriend; we had the place to ourselves. Almost immediately we traipsed to my room.  
  
When she saw the pale pink carpet, matching curtains and bedspread, I expected her to guffaw--she strikes me as the kind of girl who has a bold black and red scheme in her room. Instead of reacting as I'd thought she would, Chloe simply smiled and dropped onto the floor. "This is a comfy room."  
  
Joining her on the floor, I relaxed. "Yeah, it is."  
  
There was silence while she observed the furniture; white desk and dresser, wicker bedside table, CDs in a haphazard stack by the end of my bed. My stereo was on top of my dresser, looking very much out of place among my riding trophies and other sentimental trinkets.  
  
"Want some music?" I had to fill the quiet some how.  
  
"Sure," she said brightly.  
  
I leapt onto my bed--surprising her with my less-than-graceful move-- and snatched a CD from the top of the pile. Sticking it into the player, I turned it on. "This is--" I began, wanting to educate her.  
  
"Rufus!" she finished, grinning. "Rufus Wainwright is the best!"  
  
Chloe not only knowing but *liking* my secret musical obsession was shocking; I said as much. "You know Rufus?"  
  
She nodded happily and skipped to a different track. 'Tower of Learning'--the most romantic song on his second album--filled the room, and she held out her hand. "Dance with me, Lana?" she whispered, suddenly calm.  
  
Swallowing my nervousness, I held her loosely around her slender waist, breathed in the rich vanilla scent of her hair. We danced--embraced and rocked, to be more specific--for the entire song, letting Rufus's calm, deep voice relax us.  
  
When he reached the, "you smashed in with your eyes..." part, Chloe looked at me intensely. Our mouths met in what I can only describe as an intimate kiss. The one we shared in the dressing room, while passionate, was more a test than anything else; the one we shared in my room just then was so much more enjoyable.  
  
I suppose when you're dancing with the girl you might love in the privacy of your room, all the while listening to your mutual favorite musician, jumping in bed together is a logical progression.  
  
FINIS--more soon 


	3. Soft-Skin Boys Can Bruise You

Couple(s): ChLana, a bit of CC  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Disclaimer: Everything but the pot belongs to someone other than me. The title comes from the Rufus Wainwright song, 'California'.  
  
Spoilers for: nothing  
  
Author's Note: There's no smut in this one, sorry! (Voyueristic!Lex might make an appearance, but I'm not promising.... *evil grin*) Chloe's POV. I didn't mean for this to be so short; part four will be longer, I hope.  
  
Soft-Skin Boys Can Bruise You  
  
******  
  
I slept with Lana Lang.  
  
To put it another way, I bedded my best friend's long time lust interest. The same best friend, I might add, who was taking me to the Spring Formal in a week or so; the same formal that might or might not convince said best friend that he wants a relationship with me.  
  
Of all the bloody times to finally get some bloody attention from Clark.  
  
When I awoke next to Lana the next morning--thankfully it was Saturday--I felt an odd sense of peace. I know, 'peace' and I don't usually go together, but I felt, for lack of a better word, liberated. The secret part of me--the part that gazed longingly at photos of models and lovely actresses in magazines--was set free for a night. I'm not going to go into who did what to whom, but I will say it was amazing and passionate.  
  
I'm not usually that sappy.  
  
"Chloe?" Lana whispered, rolling over and resting her head on my bare stomach.  
  
"Hi," I said softly, smiling down at her.  
  
"Mmm," she murmured when I kissed her quickly. "Are you okay with what we just did?"  
  
Of all the clichÃ©s... "I stayed, didn't I?" It came out a little harsher than I'd wanted.  
  
Her dark, lovely eyes closed halfway in an expression of contentment. Or, at least, I've read that's what it means. "I've had a huge crush on you forever," she remarked shyly.  
  
I guess that *is* what her look meant. "Oh." When we were kissing in the dressing room, I assumed something like that, but I wasn't planning to get my hopes up. "I never would've guessed, Lana; you've been awfully subtle about it."  
  
Her well-groomed eyebrows raised. "Sarcasm this early?"  
  
I hadn't meant it that way. Instead of saying so, I maneuvered myself until I was on top of her again; Lana smiled prettily, running her hand through my hair. She's so bloody beautiful that she makes even me-- *me*!--mentally spout platitudes. Sacrifices, sacrifices.  
  
"What are you thinking?"  
  
After capturing her mouth for a quick, chaste kiss, I sighed in exasperation. "This is great and all, but can we stop with the clichÃ©s? I'm beginning to think that I could quote this entire conversation before we even finish it."  
  
"Sorry," she returned in a whisper, blushing. "I've just been wa-"  
  
"'-waiting for this forever'. Got it." Raising my own eyebrows, I smirked.  
  
"You're cute when you're snarky." Her index finger traced complex patterns on my upper arm, and all conscious thoughts flew out the proverbial window. Then she kissed me deeply, and everything faded.  
  
I'm really not always that sappy. Really.  
  
******  
  
My dad was away for a week-long business thing, so I didn't have to deal with his third-degree interrogation when I went home around ten that morning. ('Where were you?', 'Who were you with?' 'What did you do?' 'Did you get high, drunk, or have sex?')  
  
While I made myself some toast and eggs for breakfast, I answered his usual questions out loud. "I was at Lana's house overnight, Dad. We fooled around together, then went to bed. Yes, I had a fabulous time; no, I didn't high or drunk, though I'm now addicted to her. No, I wouldn't mind doing it again."  
  
Grinning giddily, I carried my food to the table and flipped on the overhead light. It flooded the room, and I unconsciously squinted; it was brighter than I remembered, leading me to believe that the old bulb had died, and Dad replaced it. *God, I need coffee! I'm just sitting here thinking about high wattage light bulbs; a sure sign of caffeine- deprivation*  
  
I got up, filled my espresso machine--a Christmas gift from Lois a year ago; bless my cousin--then tapped my foot impatiently. The only problem with it is that it takes an excruciatingly long time to brew; especially when one is as hyper as I am.  
  
It beeped, and I let out a breath I didn't remember holding. "Finally," I mumbled, pouring myself a cup. Instead of sitting in the lonely house, I chose to drink my beverage outside on our porch swing; I usually don't connect with nature, to put it mildly, but that day I wanted to be outdoors.  
  
I felt guilty; I should have had breakfast with Lana; in movies and books guys always make food for their lovers. Well, okay, I have two discrepancies with that: first, I'm not a guy; I don't know if the rules are different for not-straight women. Second, she wasn't my lover, as far as I knew. In movies, men never stay with their one-night stands. Guilt evaporated, problem solved.  
  
Who should show up in the middle of my third cup, but Clark. Despite my newfound lust for one raven-haired beauty with the initials, 'LL', I still found my best friend to be really hot; he wore frayed, dirty jeans, a tight white t-shirt, and his trademark blue flannel.  
  
"Hiya, Clark!" Oh yeah. I'd had caffeine, alright.  
  
He bounced up the steps, grinned affectionately at me. "Hi yourself, Clo. A little early for coffee, isn't it?" I glowered. He laughed. "Stupid question."  
  
Pulling him onto the swing next to me, I stretched my legs across his lap; this made him smirk. "What are you doing here anyway, Kent? You never visit on the weekends. Well, okay, there was that one time in eighth grade when you wanted me to hang out with you, then there was that time in-- " His index finger gently covered my lips, shutting off my hyper babbling.  
  
"I wanted to see what was up; I called the house last night, and no one answered. I then went to the Beanery, but Lex said he hadn't seen you all day. Where were you?" He was whispering, turning my face so I could stare into his cool blue eyes.  
  
*I was fooling around with the old love of your life*. "I, um, stayed at Lana's for the night. We're, you know, friends." It sounded fake, even to me.  
  
His breath was on my lips. "Oh. Cool." He at least *pretended* to buy it.  
  
"Clark," I began warily, noticing that he was giving me a look; the same look Lana had given me just before she ripped my clothes off. *Uh oh*  
  
"Can I....kiss you?" he asked shyly, touching my cheek lightly.  
  
*Uh oh* "Um...uh..." He knew that I had a huge, gigantic crush on him a week ago, and it seemed he was finally learning to care about me too; for me to suddenly reject him would appear suspicious, and then I'd have to explain just what I was doing with Lana...  
  
It was best to give in. I assumed there was a part of me that still wanted to taste him, anyway.  
  
"Go ahead," I whispered, praying that I wouldn't enjoy it enough to forget about Lana completely.  
  
His mouth was firm and comfortable; he wasn't as fantastic a kisser as his former crush, but it was still a great two minutes. There was minimal tongue involved, though he did boldly lick my lips when it was all over.  
  
"See you later, Clo," he said softly, holding my gaze.  
  
"Leaving already?" *Good; keep things from becoming more complicated*  
  
"Yeah, still have chores and deliveries. I just wanted to...do that." A smirk. "Bye."  
  
"Bye, Clark."  
  
After quickly kissing my cheek, he bolted down the steps and hurried around the corner.  
  
Remember when I prayed that I wouldn't enjoy the kiss? That prayer wasn't answered. 


	4. A Foolish Love

Couple(s): ChLana  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Disclaimer: Everything but the plot belongs to someone other than me.  
  
Spoilers for: 'Tempest'  
  
Author's Note: I don't want to wait all summer! At least the episode yielded lots of material! I skipped ahead a few days from the last chapter, in order to get the Formal stuff in here, so it might be a little rushed. Lana's POV.  
  
A Foolish Love  
  
******  
  
Whitney was leaving for the Marines, and I was more excited than sad. While I cared about him, I never liked being with him; the whole 'being a lesbian' thing and all.  
  
I planned to tell Chloe the fantastic news that day at the Talon--she was stopping by to visit. As soon as she walked in the door and ducked behind the counter, I knew something was severely wrong; her usually-bright eyes were somber, and she looked like she wanted to cry.  
  
"What is it?" I asked gently, resting my hands on her shoulders.  
  
"LuthorCorp's shutting down...Dad lost his job. We're probably moving to Metropolis." While stifling a sob with her hand, she allowed me to lead her to the Talon's office. Once I shut the door behind us and yelled to one of my waitresses to take over for a while, I hugged her.  
  
"Shh, it'll be okay." I was aware that words never helped a situation such as that one, but I was at a loss. The two weeks we'd been together had been amazing; sure we'd had to keep things underwraps--not spending much time together at school, meeting privately in the bathroom between classes, fabricating stories around our friends--but I cared about her so much that it almost scared me.  
  
"And I know," she sniffled and wiped her eyes, "that I should be happy; I heard that Whitney's leaving, so we don't have to hide anymore. But if I move..." She took a deep breath in order to calm down, then forced herself to smile at me.  
  
"If you move, I'll visit you on weekends; we'll write and call. It'll be fine. Don't think about that now, though." Lowering myself onto the leather chair that stood behind the cluttered desk--both pieces of furniture courtesy of Lex--I pulled her onto my lap.  
  
"Lana," she began nervously, running her thumb down my cheek, "I have to tell you something else."  
  
I didn't like the fear in her eyes. "What?"  
  
"I kissed Clark a few days ago. Actually, he kissed me; still, I let him. And I *liked* it!" Her voice rose an octave--something calm, self- confident Chloe never let happen--and I got goosebumps. "I'm so sorry."  
  
"It's okay," I said softly, almost meaning it. "I understand. It would have seemed weird if you rejected him after being so obviously in love with him for so long."  
  
"You're not...angry?" The incredulity in her tone made me smile.  
  
"Nah. If you decide to be with him, I'll be depressed, but it'll make sense. Maybe Smallville isn't ready for two girls to be in a romantic relationship." I leaned my forehead against hers, sighed. Her hands slipped under the back of my aqua t-shirt, and massaged my back lightly.  
  
We were quiet for another ten minutes.  
  
Then she broke the silence. "I think I love you, Lana."  
  
*Breathe, Lana; she's just reacting to everything. She doesn't necessarily mean it. "Okay."  
  
Her hands withdrew from under my shirt, and she angrily got up. "'Okay'? I don't expect you to love me back, but the least you could do is not dismiss my feelings like that!" Her black ankle boots clicked against the tile floor while she paced. Despite myself, I couldn't help and notice how sexy she was in silky black pants and a rainbow-colored long-sleeved shirt.  
  
"I wasn't, Clo!" I insisted, jumping up and grabbing her wrist. "Stop!"  
  
We were both surprised to hear how authoritatively the single word came across. Chloe stopped walking, mid-stride, and frowned at me. "Why?"  
  
"I've been in love with you since the first time you smiled at me; I knew that, because anti-mainstream Chloe Sullivan felt confident enough to be nice to one of the 'popular' people, you're more open and kind than you think." I was shaking when I finished, certain that she would insist I made it all up.  
  
Instead of saying anything, she blinked fiercely, opened and closed her mouth soundlessly. Right when I began to lose hope, she smiled sweetly and kissed me. Her deft fingers unhooked my bra, and I was ready to throw her on the floor right then and there.  
  
"Now," she ordered harshly, breaking off our frantic kiss long enough to yank off my shirt.  
  
"Sounds good to me," I gasped, trembling.  
  
There we stood in our unclasped bras--hers was white and lacy--and pants. We were too impatient to get completely undressed; we slid to the floor for what would become a fabulous make-out session.  
  
Or it would have, had the office door not flown open.  
  
"Oh," a shocked Lex Luthor said quickly. Anyone else would have been embarrassed and left, but not my boss. He sauntered in, smirking. "Ladies."  
  
"Lex! What are you doing here? I thought you had stuff at the plant..." I got off of Chloe and fumbled with my shirt.  
  
Holding up a hand, he shrugged. "No need to get dressed on my account; your secret's safe with me. I just stopped by to get some papers." A pause then, "how long has this been going on, anyway?"  
  
"You're not going to get all perverted about this, are you?" Chloe snapped, her eyes blazing. She was pissed at him for the situation with her father, though she later told me she knew Lex wasn't to blame. It also struck me that she was frightened about being found out by the most powerful man in Kansas; I was too, to be honest.  
  
He chuckled and ambled toward the desk. After a minute's searching, he located a thick file folder in a locked drawer. Budget stuff, I knew. "No; what you two do in your spare time is none of my business. And, Miss Sullivan, I won't tell your father."  
  
"Not that you'll see him anymore," she shot back. I rubbed her back in a vain attempt to comfort her.  
  
An exasperated sigh filtered through his nose. In a quick stride, he stood in front of her and stared into her eyes firmly. I wanted her to slap him; I knew I would if he hit on her, my boss or not. "I don't expect you to believe that this isn't my fault, Chloe. Regardless, I have nothing but respect for the two of you, and I want us all to at least get along; I'm not the bad man you think I am." Another smirk crossed his admittedly- handsome face. "Enjoy yourselves, ladies."  
  
I think his eyes flickered to her bra, but I probably imagined that in my growing paranoia. "Bye, Lex, and thanks for keeping this secret." I trusted that he would, though I wasn't sure why.  
  
"No problem." He shut the door behind him quietly, and I let out a breath.  
  
Chloe and I giggled nervously, then hugged tightly. "I really have to get back to work," I whispered reluctantly.  
  
"Yeah. And I have to go make sure my dress is ready." Her gaze averted to the floor, her shoulders slumped.  
  
I'd forgotten about the Formal. "Look, Clo, I want you to have fun with Clark. Don't let our relationship get in the way of your enjoyment; if you kiss him...um," I *wanted* to be supportive, "I really don't want you to kiss him again!"  
  
A grin. "Don't worry, I won't. I will see you at the dance, right? We can reduce ourselves to moony looks across the room." This amused her; she laughed.  
  
"Actually, Whitney's bus leaves that afternoon; I can't be there. I'm sorry."  
  
Chloe paused, licked her lips absently; she did that when she was deep in thought, not knowing that it drove me mad with desire. "I guess it's better that way; I'll be less tempted to do something stupid."  
  
"I'll see you later tonight?"  
  
She nodded. "Yeah. Dad'll be up in Metropolis searching for a job and all that jazz; you can stay over, see my dress." Her eyes glittered mischievously, and I prayed that my last shift would fly by.  
  
******  
  
The sight of her in magenta silk, her tiny shoulders peeking through the fabric, was enough to make me drool. I wanted to touch every inch of her in the worst way; biting back the urge to squeal, I grazed her arm with my fingers. Any more touching than that and I would've lost all self- control.  
  
"Like it?" she teased, noticing my obvious reaction.  
  
I closed my gaping mouth, nodded. "Yes. You're amazing," I croaked, bringing my hand to her neck and throat.  
  
"Going to be okay, Lana?" she continued, grinning.  
  
"Eventually." Her own fingers tangled in my hair, and we sank onto her purple bedspread. I expertly undid the clasp and zipper of her garment.  
  
"Thought you'd like it," she whispered against my lips, "I bought it with you in mind."  
  
MORE SOON! 


	5. Makes Any Girl Feel Like Picking Up Rose...

Couple(s): ChLana  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Disclaimer: Everything but the plot belongs to someone other than me.  
  
Spoilers for: 'Tempest'  
  
Author's Note: This is set during the formal, and I took a few liberties with dialogue and whatnot; writer's license. :-) Because so much needs to happen in this chapter, it's told from Chloe and Lana's alternating POVs. Also, was it just me, or the second time Lana yelled to Clark in the field did she say, 'Chloe'? (Maybe that's simply my femmeslash obsessed brain at work; always searching out subtext!)  
  
Makes Any Girl Feel Like Picking Up Roses  
  
******  
  
CHLOE  
  
Let's be honest: I was excited about attending the formal with Clark; after the kiss , I decided that I could still have feelings for my best friend. And, hey, if Lana could pretend with Whitney, I could enjoy Clark!  
  
Due to some bizarre accident, Clark's truck met its untimely demise; he refused to elaborate on the circumstances, and, for once, I didn't give a crap what happened. Picking him up felt good--I admit I'm a bit of a feminist, and I had no intention of letting him be 'Prince Charming' for the entire evening.  
  
My giddiness when he said I looked beautiful was real; I cared about him dearly, whether or not it was in a romantic way, and I wanted him, as my date, to enjoy my ensemble. Likewise, I meant it when I said he cleaned up well; he's bloody sexy in a tux.  
  
The wind was picking up when I pulled into the parking lot and found a space among the limos; the radio had reported that a storm was imminent, but I thought nothing of it at the time. "Let's go," Clark yelled over the whistling wind and chatter of the other dance attendees.  
  
He slipped his arm around my waist, and we raced to the door, laughing. My mirth faded when I noticed Whitney and Lana leaving the building.  
  
"Hey, guys. You look great," Lana said brightly, leaving her gaze on me a moment longer than necessary.  
  
I'm sure I nodded and said something sincere; all I remember about that encounter is the private smile she flashed me when the guys weren't watching. Before I could do something regrettable--like, I don't know, jump her in the middle of the hallway--Pete came over with Erica Fox.  
  
"Hey, Erica, Pete," I said with a grin. My other best friend was adorable in his red bow-tie.  
  
"Chloe, could you..." he began, holding out a camera.  
  
"He wants you to take our picture," Erica translated, rolling her eyes affectionately.  
  
"Be right back, Clark," I said quickly, wiping rain droplets from his cheeks with my fingertips. (Honestly, I hadn't noticed it was raining outside until then.) "I think he wants proof this night actually happened!" With a giggle, I followed Pete and his date away from the growing crowd.  
  
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Whitney pulling Clark toward the door, and Lana going to start the former's truck. *Bye, Lana,* I thought with a sad sigh.  
  
"Clo?" Pete prompted.  
  
Whirling around, I pasted a grin on my face. Pete slipped his arms around Erica's waist, she placed her hands on his chest, they both gave me big, toothpaste commercial smiles. "Smiiiile!" Click. I tossed the camera back to Pete, then bolted to Clark, who was finishing a serious chat with Lana's...boyfriend.  
  
"Good luck!" Clark shouted to Whitney. Lana waved from the driver's seat of the truck, though I'm not sure to whom.  
  
"What was that all about?" I wondered, grabbing his arm and tugging him to the gym.  
  
"Guy stuff," he muttered cryptically.  
  
******  
  
LANA  
  
Chloe was even more breath-taking with her hair up, make-up on, and a glowing smile on her lips; I ached to touch her, but, of course, I couldn't. Apparently she felt the same way; she cast me a longing glance before running off to snap Pete and Erica's photo.  
  
Whitney had to talk to Clark about something, so I ran out to start the former's truck; I couldn't stand to be around Chloe and not be able to touch her. Five minutes passed before my boyfriend got in the truck, and I slid into the passengers' seat.  
  
We didn't talk on the way to the bus station; he was fighting to not cry, and I was too conflicted. I loved Chloe deeply, but I cared about Whitney, even if I just thought of him as a brother. During our earlier dance in the empty gym, I was truly sad; he always protected me, and I'd miss having him around.  
  
"Have everything?" I whispered, when we arrived at the station. It was raining pretty heavily; I silently hoped that his ride went smoothly.  
  
"You're only allowed one bag," he said with a smirk.  
  
"I'd never make it as a Marine," I remarked. His lower lip with shaking, he sniffled several times. My hands flew to my neck, and I removed my most prized possession. Placing it in his hand, I told him, "I want you to have this for luck."  
  
"I won't lose it this time."  
  
We were outside the truck, and I was watching him head for the bus. At the last possible second, we ran to each other, embraced fiercely. Losing him hurt more than I'd expected it would; he's a great guy. I knew he'd make someone extremely happy.  
  
"I loved the first moment that I saw you. I'll still love you when I see you again!" he vowed.  
  
There was nothing I could say; I never promised that I'd wait for him, and it was certainly the wrong time to explain about Chloe. I forewent talking, and kissed him as passionately as I could; he kissed me back and gripped me tighter.  
  
And then he was running up the steps, and I was crying.  
  
******  
  
CHLOE  
  
I discovered that other girls could be really cool; Erica and her crowd were intelligent, friendly, and witty. Never did I expect that I could enjoy myself at a quaint school function without Clark, Pete, or Lana being around me constantly.  
  
The band--Remy Zero, one of my favorites--was wonderful. Following their most recent single, they went right into 'Perfect Memory'--a ballad that I adored. "I love this song!" I squealed, seeking out Clark.  
  
He was by the punch bowl with Pete, looking for me. "May I have this dance?" he asked, walking toward me.  
  
"Of course," I said with a bright smile. It took us several seconds to find a spot on the crowded floor, but he finally stopped and held me.  
  
Okay, I admit it: dancing with him felt extremely good.  
  
"Clark Kent, man of mystery. Just when I think I have you figured out, you surprise me," I said softly, grinning at him.  
  
Smiling quizzically, he raised his eyebrows. "How so?"  
  
"The song, the tux...tonight."  
  
"And I'm still here," he teased.  
  
With a sigh, I rested my head against his chest, forgetting about Lana for a moment. "Clark," I murmured inaudibly. I feared I could have stayed in his arms forever.  
  
As the song reached a crescendo, I glanced up at him and stifled a gasp; he was giving me 'that' look again. *Don't kiss Clark, don't kiss Clark, don't....kiss Clark*  
  
******  
  
LANA  
  
The beating rain was making it hard enough to see the road; add that to the fact that I was still crying, and it should be understandable why I had trouble keeping the truck in control. Then, of course, a huge gust of wind *had* to sweep by so suddenly that I swerved and ran onto a nearby field.  
  
"Damnit," I muttered, praying that the storm would slack off so I could finish the trip home. I made the mistake of peering out the back window to see if the dark clouds were coming closer; three funnel clouds were touching down several meters from where I had unwillingly parked.  
  
"Oh, my god!" I gasped to no one in particular. Some instinct told me to get out and run; if the clouds could flatten a barn in no time at all- -I didn't want to imagine what they could do to me. The door flew open of its own volition--blasted winds--and I fell out of the cab.  
  
There was no way I could move, let alone find shelter from the storm; I had landed on my ankle, breaking it, I'm sure, and the winds were powerful enough to knock me over the second I stood. So I climbed back into the truck with much effort and prayed for a miracle.  
  
If I was going to die, I wanted to hear Chloe's voice again. Gripping my cell phone tightly, I forced my shaking fingers to press the second speed dial button; not surprisingly the phone lines were down.  
  
And so, I sank down in the seat, prepared to die alone.  
  
******  
  
CHLOE  
  
There's something to be said for good timing: just as I was deciding whether or not to plant a big one on my best friend's lips--I had reached no actual decision at that point; I was still weighing my options--the band cut off the song.  
  
"The National Weather Service has just announced that the tornado has passed Smallville and is headed south of town," the vice-principal, whose name I never bothered to learn, announced calmly.  
  
*Um, what tornado?*  
  
"The bus station's south of here; Lana's probably still there!" Clark said in a rush.  
  
He didn't *have to get that awful thought in my head*! More of an attempt to convince myself than him, I said, "she's probably home already. Don't worry. I'll go call her on my cell."  
  
"Stay here," he barked when I turned to go make the call. When I turned back around, he was gone.  
  
"Clark? CLARK?" He'd done it again; my worst fear was coming true.  
  
To clarify: when I told him about my nightmare--that he'd rush to the bus station and declare his undying love for Lana--I wasn't too concerned that *he'd* break my heart; I was more worried that she would realize she loved him back, and she would, thus, hurt me worse than Clark ever had. Thought I'd clear that up.  
  
It was idiotic of me to assume that the phone lines would still work; however, the simple action of pressing 'her' speed dial relaxed me. I was, at the very least, able to breathe without reminding myself to do so.  
  
I wasn't peeved that he broke his promise to go save her; if he had rushed off to rescue Lex, then I would have held a slight grudge. Since he was saving my girlfriend, though, I was almost grateful.  
  
I wished there was something I could do other than wait.  
  
******  
  
LANA  
  
Why was I not surprised that Clark showed up just when I was about to lose all hope?  
  
I still haven't figured out how he can sense when someone's in trouble, but he does; for that, I loved him.  
  
"Lana!" he screamed as soon as he ran--mysteriously appeared?--to the field. It didn't occur to me that there was no way he could have run from the school.  
  
"Clark!" I yelled back.  
  
"LANA!" he yelled again, making me anxious. *Why isn't he doing anything?*  
  
I don't have any idea why, but instead of shouting his name before the truck was lifted into the first cloud, I screamed the first one that came to mind: "CHLOE!"  
  
**  
  
When I came to, I was sprawled on a pure white hospital bed, surrounded by electrical equipment. Another hospital; I'd seen enough that whole month to last me a lifetime--not that I could coherently think about that at the time.  
  
"You're awake," a surprised voice said softly. Its owner sank onto the bed next to me and grasped my limp hand. "You had me worried for a second."  
  
Chloe, bless her. She was still in her dress, though her hair was loose, and her makeup was smudged; probably because she'd been crying. "Chloe, did I ruin the dance for you?" I croaked, squeezing her fingers as tightly as I could.  
  
A slight chuckle escaped her throat as she wiped her eyes with her other hand. "Don't worry about it; I'm relieved you're okay, as trite as that sounds. It's a good thing Clark got there when he did. Otherwise-" she took a deep breath, smiled genuinely. "Enough doom and gloom. How are you feeling?"  
  
"Like I was tossed around in a truck by a tornado," I muttered.  
  
Her grin cheered me up instantly. "I knew I liked you," she teased, bending down to kiss my cheek.  
  
My hand wrapped around her neck, and I moved her mouth to mine. "We shouldn't," she insisted, "what if..."  
  
"Shh."  
  
She stretched out next to me on the bed, the worry evaporating from her face. "You were out for six hours, Lana." There was a contemplative pause. "I don't have any idea how Clark did it, but he managed to pull you out of the truck before anything worse happened to you."  
  
"He's Clark," I whispered, running my fingers through her tangled hair. "It doesn't matter how he does things; all that matters is that he does them."  
  
"Guess you're right." Snuggling as close to me as my various wires and machines would allow her to, Chloe closed her eyes.  
  
******  
  
CHLOE  
  
It's a long story how I got from the dance to Lana's hospital bed.  
  
Once Clark left and I deemed myself helpless, I myself left. Apparently he'd found some other way to get to her--I swear sometimes I think that boy can fly--because my car was still in its parking spot. Since I had no idea where my girlfriend was, I opted to go home.  
  
Dad was home, reading the paper, despite the late hour; he'd planned to stay awake till I got home, just so he could give me the third degree. ("Did you have fun?" "Was there drinking?" "Did you accept any unusual substances?" "Did Clark ask you for sex?" "If so, did you say no?")  
  
Lucky for me, my expression must have been severe enough that he forewent the typical questions. Instead, he jumped out of his old ratty recliner and hugged me. "Clo? What is it, sweetie? Did something happen?"  
  
I love my dad, but he can be dense sometimes. "Of course something happened, Dad!" I snapped. "Clark left to save Lana from the tornado."  
  
Being the dense yet lovable being he is, Dad assumed something entirely different than what really went on. "I'm sorry he broke your heart. I warned you that something like that might happen, sweetie." He sat me on the couch, his friendly face filled with worry.  
  
"It's not like that, Dad!" I shouted through sobs. "My girlfriend is in peril, and my best friend is risking his life to save her!" *So much for thinking before speaking.*  
  
Silence.  
  
"Um, Dad?" I squeaked, sobering up when I noticed the shock in his eyes.  
  
"Y-your girlfriend. Lana? You? Chloe, I..." He spread his large hands out helplessly, blinking rapidly. *Is he...going to 'cry'?*  
  
I wanted him to be angry at me for being in love with a girl; I wanted him to disown me or at least scream about how no daughter of his is going to be a dyke. I certainly didn't want him to be so disappointed that he'd cry! *And I always thought you were open...*  
  
"I'm sorry if you can't handle the fact that I fell in love with a girl!" I said bitterly. "That's the way it is, and if you love me, you'll accept it."  
  
He hugged me fiercely, his chin digging into my scalp. "I'm not ashamed or anything, Chloe. Your mother always assumed you'd be...she said that you'd..."  
  
"*What*, Dad?"  
  
"That you'd take after her." This was uttered with much difficulty, though I couldn't tell if his voice was undercut with pain or malice.  
  
It was my turn to do the 'shocked into silence' bit.  
  
"You know what," he spoke up with a renewed sense of purpose, "let's go to the hospital; I'm sure he'll bring her there. You want to make sure she's okay, right?"  
  
Though he pulled me to my feet and led me to the car, I didn't remember anything until we got to the hospital. (The storm, by the way, was tapering off in that area of town; we only encountered some rain and moderate wind.) Lana was already in a room, Clark was waiting for us at her door. He and I embraced.  
  
"She's okay?" I asked as calmly as I could.  
  
Clark drew in a deep, shaky breath and held it for a few seconds. "She's still unconscious." The breath filtered through his lips.  
  
Dad, who was looking extremely uncomfortable, bounced on the balls of his feet. "You know, I'm going to, I guess, get some coffee in the cafeteria. Take care of her, Clark."  
  
"Yeah," my best friend whispered. When we were alone, he tilted my chin and stared into my eyes. "I'm sorry I deserted you like that, but I had to."  
  
"It's okay, Clark." *Should I tell him? He has to know.* "Clark, there's something you have to be aware of."  
  
His hand cupped my chin, his brow furrowed. "What?"  
  
*Here goes.* "Lana and I are..we're dating."  
  
Then, before I could get a reaction, I wandered into her room. You know the rest.  
  
******  
  
LANA  
  
Clark came in while Chloe slept; he smiled at me then pulled a white plastic visitor's chair next to my bed. "How are you doing?" he whispered.  
  
"Better, thanks. I owe you my life, Clark." I hoped he picked up on the seriousness of my statement.  
  
*Is he blushing?* "It was nothing." Casting a fond smile at Chloe's sleeping form, he added, "she's really exhausted."  
  
"Yeah. I guess it's been a tough few weeks for her; with the potential move and all." I hated lying to him!  
  
His eyes were firm when he stared at me. "It's been a tough few weeks for both of you," he reminded me warmly.  
  
She'd told him. He knew. He didn't seem to care. I was stunned. "She, uh, told you?"  
  
Clark nodded gravely, rubbed my palm with his thumb. "She did, and I'm happy for you." A grin filled his face, making his words that much more genuine. "I'm sorry I used to hit on you all the time; if I'd known..."  
  
Patting his cheek lightly, I smiled. "No problem, Clark."  
  
Five minutes passed.  
  
"I kissed her! She must hate me," he yelped so suddenly that I jumped.  
  
Chloe stirred. "Wha-?"  
  
"Shh, Clark's just being a spaz. Sleep," I whispered, caressing her cheek.  
  
"Nah, I love watching him flip out." Awakening quickly, Chloe used the manual control to raise the top of the bed, then lowered it, then raised it. "Always wanted to play with one of these." She would have continued, had I not tapped her hand and made a face. "Sorry, hon."  
  
Clark wasn't amused. "Clo, I kissed you the other day! I'm so sorry. If I had known about you two I never would have taken advantage like that! Do you totally hate me?" He was on the verge of babbling; his arms flapped while he screeched, and I honestly feared he'd fly away.  
  
Laughing, Chloe leaned over to hug him. "Oh, Clark; you're so adorable. I don't hate you--in fact, I enjoyed kissing you. I could never stay mad at you for doing something so completely sweet, anyway."  
  
She adjusted his lopsided bowtie, and I was strangely touched. "What she isn't telling you," I interjected, "is how conflicted she was."  
  
"Lana!" Chloe yelped.  
  
It was Clark's turn to laugh, though he still looked embarrassed. "Well, that's flattering, I guess."  
  
Footsteps in the hallway. "I hear giggles!" an oddly familiar voice boomed.  
  
"Hi, Daddy," Chloe said somewhat cheerfully. "Come on in."  
  
Gabe Sullivan stepped cautiously inside the room, styrofoam cup in his hand. "Hi, guys. How are you feeling, Lana?" All of a sudden, he was quiet and polite; I sensed that she'd told him, too.  
  
"I'm recovering, Mister Sullivan, thank you."  
  
Even in the dim lighting I could see his nervousness. Instead of sitting near the bed like Clark, Gabe--Mister Sullivan, whichever--chose to sit in the corner of the room. "Good, good. If you and Clark don't mind, Lana, Chloe and I have something to discuss. Would you like us to go somewhere private?"  
  
The 'something' was obviously known to Chloe; she shook her head and answered for Clark and me. "No; we'll talk about it here. Lana's too comfy, anyway." She grinned at me, though her eyes were apprehensive.  
  
Leaning forward, Gabe rested his elbows on his knees. "Chloe, your mother was--is--gay. When you were three years old, she told me and left with her best friend. It was a friendly divorce; I held no grudges against her, since it was obviously a tough decision for her. And, anyway, she gave me you, so how could I be mad?"  
  
Rolling her eyes, Chloe beamed. "Fatherly cheese," she announced gleefully.  
  
"She and Leslie--you remember her, don't you?--chose to not be a part of your life, though Abigail desperately wanted to be; they thought it would be too confusing for you." He audibly swallowed. "They were living in California last time I checked; I have their last known phone number somewhere if you want to call her. She'd love to hear your voice, Clo." At first I couldn't figure out which Sullivan was crying.  
  
They both were. "Thank you for telling me," Chloe choked out.  
  
"Yeah, baby," Gabe whispered, walking over and kissing her forehead. "I should go home and get some rest. Stay as long as you want."  
  
"'kay. Bye, Dad."  
  
Clark and I called our own 'good nights', then the three of us were alone.  
  
******  
  
CHLOE  
  
I had vague memories of a tall, leggy brunette with a gorgeous laugh, but nothing concrete. I knew, however, that the mysterious woman was Leslie: my mother's girlfriend.  
  
Finally having a specific tidbit of information about my mother--who I recall as being blonde and brash--made me feel inexplicably connected to her for the first time. Despite myself, I trembled.  
  
Clark, being the perceptive guy he really is, leaned over and stroked my arm. "Are you going to be all right, Clo?" he whispered. He seemed to take everything well, which was a huge relief to me.  
  
"You bet," I assured him, wrapping the light, scratchy blanket tighter around my shoulders. "I'm--wow. I knew they got divorced, but I never thought to ask why; I simply assumed they had a falling-out. I guess that...wow." I doubted it would ever sink in.  
  
"You should call her, hon," Lana suggested, rested her head against my shoulder.  
  
I shrugged. I knew I wanted to talk to her, but I was afraid to. "What if she doesn't want to hear from me? What if, I don't know, she and Leslie were secretly abducted by aliens and the 'being gay' thing was Dad's way of covering it up? What if she has no idea who I am?"  
  
Strangely, Clark grinned. "I'm sure she'll figure out that you're her daughter, if she's anything like you."  
  
"What does that mean?" I wondered, pretending to be insulted.  
  
Even Lana laughed softly. "You're that kind of person, Clo; memorable."  
  
"Well, okay, though I'm not convinced that's a compliment."  
  
"It was meant to be one," my girlfriend assured me, yawning. "'Night, guys."  
  
Clark and I took that as our cue to leave; we both kissed her--he on the cheek, me on the mouth--then politely left the room. We ended up in the cafeteria, and I rehashed the less private bits of Lana's and my relationship--mainly how we got together, though I left out the details of the kiss.  
  
He asked pertinent questions about my sexuality, then we settled into our usual banter routine.  
  
I was 'out' to everyone that mattered, my girl was alive, I knew who my mother was, and the people I loved still loved me back.  
  
Nothing could ruin my life.  
  
******  
  
END, for now; I have a few more chapters planned. Should I go on? 


	6. So Charmingly Daft

Couple(s): ChLana  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Disclaimer: Everything but the plot belongs to someone other than me--though I do own Abigail and Leslie. I, yet again, ripped the title off from a Rufus Wainwright lyric. (I have a feeling a pattern is emerging.)  
  
Spoilers for: nothing  
  
Author's Note: Thanks for the continued support and encouragement! Compliments, kind suggestions, and other little comments keep me doing this. (Not that that's a subtle hint.) Chloe's POV.  
  
So Charmingly Daft  
  
******  
  
I gripped the pink Post-it note until my knuckles turned white. "Should I do this, Lana?" I whispered, fixing my girlfriend with a frightened glance.  
  
Nodding fiercely, she handed me the portable phone in Dad's and my kitchen. "Yes, you should."  
  
'1-417-7645'; I could do it. I knew I could. RING, RING RING... ('Hi, Mom, it's Chloe--your long-lost daughter.' 'Mom? It's Chloe, your daughter.' 'Hi, it's Chloe Sullivan; is my mother, Abigail, there?')  
  
"Hello, Kilbourn residence," a cheerful voice greeted me.  
  
"Um, hi," I squeaked. "Is Abigail there?"  
  
"This is she," the voice replied, becoming curious. "Who is this?"  
  
I was talking to my mother! "Um, this is Chloe. Chloe Sullivan. Your, um, daughter. In Smallville. Uh, Kansas." I did it; I introduced myself.  
  
Silence.  
  
"Mom?"  
  
A sniffle traveled through the phone wires, followed by a shaky sigh. "Chloe Sullivan," Mom whispered with a tiny laugh, "my daughter. Wow. It's so amazing to hear from you, sweetie! Why don't you give me your number, and I'll call you back."  
  
I was afraid to hang up; afraid that I'd wake up and find that it was all a dream--as tacky as that sounds. "Okay, Mom." After rattling off the number--I had to stop and think about it for a few seconds--I hung up with shaking hands.  
  
"Well?" my girlfriend asked, raising her eyebrows.  
  
"She's calling back." I couldn't suppress a shriek of joy.  
  
"Should I leave you alone?" Lana continued gently, squeezing my hand.  
  
"Unless you want to; I'd like you to stay."  
  
RING! I snatched the phone and pressed the 'on' button. "Mom?"  
  
"Chloe?"  
  
"Yeah, hi! I hope it was okay for me to call; I was talking to Dad and he told me all about what happened, said that you wanted to hear from me...I have so much to tell you about everything, and I don't know where to start! Can I stop babbling?" I was bouncing.  
  
Laughing, Mom called over her shoulder, "it's Chloe." Then to me she said, "Leslie sends her love, as do I. Tell me about yourself, sweetie: school, love, life, what you do for fun...I want to hear whatever you have to say."  
  
I hoisted myself up on our ivory countertop, swinging my legs. "Let's see...I'm a high school freshman--editor of our paper. I'm the youngest student to ever get the position; the principal thought my writing sample showed--and I quote-- 'amazing potential for a girl of your age.' Um, for fun I hang out with my friends Clark and Pete, drink coffee, write, snub the usual school customs; I also spend as much time as I possibly can with my girlfriend, Lana."  
  
Mom chuckled. "That's my girl; going off and doing great things already. Tell me about your girlfriend--do you love her? How long have you known each other? Can I meet her and you sometime?" She began to sound like a teenager fishing for gossip; that made me smile.  
  
Lana jumped up next to me, and I automatically slipped my free arm around her waist. "Lana's actually here right now, Mom; she convinced me to call you." I stopped for a minute, kissed Lana's neck. "We've known each other for a couple years, but we just got together about a month ago. There was a period of time when I didn't think I liked her that much; it turned out that I was just afraid to face the fact that I did honestly love her."  
  
My mother sighed--it was one of those swoony, 'that's incredibly romantic' sighs. "Aww, that makes me so happy, Clo. That's sort of how Les and I met."  
  
"How *is* Leslie?" I asked. Though I didn't remember her very well, I imagined that if my mother loved her, then I would.  
  
"She's wonderful. We decided to have a baby!"  
  
The excitement in her voice made me grin. "That's great, Mom! Lana and I will have to fly out this summer to see you. That is, if I can make her come with me."  
  
My girlfriend smiled shyly and leaned against my shoulder.  
  
"Oh, I'd love to see you, dear! And Lana, too, of course. You and I have many years to make up. Which reminds me: you aren't mad at me for leaving, are you?" Her voice lowered; she suddenly sounded regretful and sad.  
  
"No, Mom," I whispered honestly. "You did what you had to do; I hold nothing against you."  
  
"Good." I heard her relax. "You had a surrogate mother-figure at some point, I hope? Your father's girlfriend, a friend's mother, someone?"  
  
Martha Kent's chats and dinners sprang to mind. "Yeah, my friend Clark's mother has been taking good care of me for the last few years. Dad doesn't date much, by the way; he's too busy with work."  
  
"That's your father, alright." There was no anger in her voice, only affection. "Give him my best, would you? Lana too?"  
  
"Sure, Mom. The same to Leslie."  
  
"Okay, sweetheart. Call me again sometime--collect--and we can work out a plan for your vacation, okay?"  
  
My grin grew larger. I couldn't wait to see my mother again. "Of course! It was great to talk to you again. I miss you."  
  
Through a chuckle, I heard her sniffle again. "You too, Clo, you too. You sound so grown-up! I can't wait to see you soon." There was momentary silence. "I love you."  
  
It had been over a decade since I'd seen her, but I don't think I ever stopped caring about her; she's my mother, after all. "I love you, too, Mom. Talk to you soon."  
  
"Bye, dear. Take care of yourself. Why don't you hang up first, so I don't feel like I'm deserting you?"  
  
"Oh, Mom, don't worry. Bye!" Click.  
  
******  
  
When I finished, I set down the phone and turned to Lana. "She wants us to visit this summer!"  
  
"Both of us?"  
  
"Yes!" I shrieked, grabbing her in a hug.  
  
Apparently my enthusiasm was catching; Lana grinned. "Great! If Nell will let me go visit my secret girlfriend's mother, then that'll be awesome." Pause. "I'm really proud of you for doing that just now. What should we do next?"  
  
Beaming, I kissed her softly. "We're all alone and happy..." I trailed off, biting my lip slyly.  
  
My girlfriend's nothing if not perceptive. "Let's go celebrate," she whispered, all but carrying me up the stairs.  
  
MORE SOON 


	7. Feeling As Helpless As the Elephant Man

Couple(s): ChLana; platonic ChLex (It had to be in here!)  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Disclaimer: Everything but the plot belongs to someone other than me. Rufus Wainwright owns the lyric I used for the title. (It comes from the song 'In My Arms', to be more specific.)  
  
Spoilers for: a reference to 'Kinetic'  
  
Author's Note: Lana's POV. No smut, I'm sorry; it would detract from the plot at this point. Maybe, someday, I'll do a smutty ChLana for everyone who's begging. ;-) I hope everyone will keep reading, anyway.  
  
Feeling As Helpless As the Elephant Man  
  
******  
  
Nell was actually pretty happy for a while; her new boyfriend--some freelance journalist she refused to let me meet--seemed to have something to do with her change in mood. I was relieved that she'd found someone else--for a while I feared she would try to steal Jonathan Kent from Clark's mother. (Jonathan and my aunt had dated in high school, and she, apparently, took it hard when he went and married Martha.)  
  
I figured I could use her cheerfulness to my advantage; I had to ask her about visiting Abigail, and to do that, I knew I had to 'come out'. I knew she'd be more likely to accept me if she wasn't annoyed at something. "Nell?" I began sweetly over breakfast the Sunday after Chloe made the call.  
  
She glanced up from the paper and smiled slightly. "Yes, Lana?"  
  
"You know Chloe Sullivan, right?"  
  
Her forehead furrowed while she forced herself to remember. "She's that blonde friend of yours, yes?"  
  
Oh, right; Chloe had met Nell a week before, though we hadn't planned for it to happen. She was on her way out when my aunt came home from a date, and Clo had decided to introduce herself as my friend. "Yes, she is."  
  
"Okay. What about her?"  
  
"Um, she's going to California to visit her mom this summer, and she asked me to come with. Is that okay?" It was best to wait until she asked why Chloe wanted me to go; blurting out, 'I'm  
  
gay', wasn't ideal.  
  
Nell pursed her lips and rested her chin on her fist. That was her, 'I know I should say 'no', but it's important to you' face. "Why does she want you to go with her?"  
  
"Because we're friends."  
  
Sighing, she shrugged. "Well, all right; as long as you let me call her mother first."  
  
Uh oh. I hadn't thought of that! Abigail wouldn't 'out' us, would she? "Uh, I can get the number from Chloe today."  
  
"Splendid. Finish your breakfast." That was the end of that; she went back to the paper, and I went back to my toast and yogurt.  
  
******  
  
Chloe and her father were finishing up their own meal when I knocked on the front door around ten o'clock. That both she and Gabe were late sleepers struck me as cute. "Hey, Chloe," I called through the screen.  
  
She bounced over several seconds later, beaming. "Hey, Lana!" In a short, bright red skirt and a silky black shirt, she was beautiful. "Are you going to stare at me all afternoon, or are you coming inside?"  
  
I opted for the latter. She dropped a quick kiss on my cheek, then tugged me into the dining room. Gabe stood when I entered, and he gave me a warm hug. "Hi, Lana. It's good to see you. I'll leave you girls alone." He hurried away, in the direction of his office.  
  
Frowning quizzically at my girlfriend, I asked, "what was that all about?"  
  
Clo laughed and wrapped her arms around my waist in a backwards hug. "He's supposedly ecstatic that I'm really happy. Because of that, he's always overjoyed to see you." She pressed a soft kiss on the back of my neck. "As am I. What did Nell say?"  
  
I twisted around so I was facing her. "She said it was fine, as long as she can call Abigail first."  
  
Her bright eyes widened; she was apparently thinking much the same way I'd been earlier. "Oh. I'm sure Mom won't say anything...you could just tell Nell; I told Dad, and he was okay with it, after a little while."  
  
Ha, me come out to Nell. Again, ha. "Clo, she's *Nell*; I'm lucky she loved Whitney, otherwise I wouldn't have been able to date until I was ninety." Whoops, that was the wrong thing to say! Her face hardened, and she pulled away from me.  
  
"Yeah, lucky she loved Whitney." Turning her back, her shoulders rose and fell in a sigh.  
  
"Sweetie, I'm sorry," I whispered, brushing her lower back with my hand. "I was just using him as an example; you know I never loved him, don't you?"  
  
With a sigh, she finally nodded. I slipped my hands under the front of her shirt and massaged her stomach. "I guess; I just don't like that you were with him, and that Clark had a huge thing for you, and that, that..." It was the first time I'd ever seen her truly upset.  
  
"Shh, let's go in the living room." I took her hand and pulled her toward the Sullivans' over-stuffed blue couch that matched the color of the paint. The entire house seemed to coordinate, I noticed. "What's wrong today?" I continued, resting my forehead against her shoulder.  
  
"Nothing," Chloe whispered, kissing my hair fiercely.  
  
"Oh, right," I shot back.  
  
That was when the sobs started. She shook in my arms, and there was nothing I could say to calm her. "Friday at school...I was sitting in the *Torch* office during my study hall. One of the seniors on my staff--the guy who does the sports column on a regular basis--came in with a friend of his. The first one grabbed me and the other took the disk out of my lap top and...and stomped on it till it broke."  
  
My stomach turned; I knew where she was going, and I didn't like it.  
  
"He said that, if I didn't stop--and I quote-- 'being a goddamn dyke- whore', he was going to do the same to me." A shudder passed through her as a new wave of tears hit. "I know I shouldn't have let it bother me, but it did! How do people know? Why are they so cruel?"  
  
Taking a deep breath, I held her tighter, wanting to stop her from shaking. "Someone probably saw us together. God, I'm so sorry, Clo," I whispered, staring into her eyes. "You need to tell someone what happened, like the principal."  
  
Her eyes widened. "I can't do that! Tell the principal that I'm gay? After what happened, I'm sure admitting it will get me killed! You've heard the Matthew Shepard story, haven't you? I'll get kicked off the paper! I'll get things thrown at me! I could get bludgeoned to death! This is not a tolerant world, Lana." She was screaming, her face flushing with anger.  
  
Gabe, having heard her shouting, was in the room in a flash, holding his daughter. We exchanged a worried look over her shoulder. "Shh, Chloe, sweetie," he whispered, rubbing his daughter's back. "We'll take care of it; really. Don't worry."  
  
"Daddy," she whispered, sounding small and afraid, "I'm so scared."  
  
"You need some sleep," I told her; she'd been working late hours on the paper, and I knew that we'd spent several late evenings together during the week. "Let's go upstairs and you can rest, okay?" As I spoke, Gabe started to carry her to the stairs.  
  
We were in her room, and she was sprawled across her red bedspread. "Just sleep, honey," Gabe said quietly, tucking her comforter around her slight frame. "I'll make some phone calls and get this all sorted out."  
  
"'kay," Chloe replied, already closing her eyes. "Lana, stay?"  
  
"Of course." I slid onto the bed next to her, then mouthed a quick, 'thank you' to her father. He waved, nodded, and shut the door behind him.  
  
And so my girlfriend slept; I watched her the entire time, more frightened than I cared to admit.  
  
******  
  
I went into the Talon late that day--I usually started around two, but I didn't get there until four. Lex, who was there, surprisingly, didn't care. "Hi, Miss Lang," he greeted me from a table where he was reading the *Daily Planet*.  
  
"Mister Luthor," I returned with a slight smile. I ducked behind the counter, relieving one of the waitresses who'd been taking over in my absence. "Lex," I started, between customers.  
  
He glanced up at me, his bright eyes curious; rarely did I address him by his first name. "Yes?"  
  
Chloe would probably be angry at me; she didn't trust him as much as I did. Still, I knew the school administrators would do nothing. "Something happened to Chloe the other day, and I'm sure it'll happen again. I want your help making sure it doesn't." The authoritative tone I took surprised me.  
  
My boss was behind the counter with me, his fingers tapping against the wood. "What happened?" He really cared about Chloe--he thought of her as a friend, he'd said before.  
  
I related the sordid story, getting as pissed off as he looked. "Who are these bastards?" he asked quietly, his eyes narrowing.  
  
I confessed I didn't know, but Chloe, of course, would. He himself called the Sullivans' house from the Talon's private phone, and I couldn't help but hear his side of the conversation. "Gabe, hi; it's Lex Luthor. Can I speak to Chloe? No, it's nothing like that, I simply need to ask her about what happened the other day. Yes, Lana told me. Yes, I fully intend to do something about it. *Thank* you." He sighed in exasperation, then his voice grew friendly.  
  
"Chloe, hello; this is Lex." Pause, I could hear her rapid questions even from where I stood--'what did Lana tell you?' 'You aren't going to laugh, are you?' 'I swear if you...'-- "Miss Sullivan-" That always shut her up- "please calm down. I plan to help you; I only need to know the names of the pigs who threatened you." Another pause. "*No*, I assure you I don't have an ulterior motive. You know I consider you a friend, and friends....thank you. Let me write that down." There was a message pad by the phone, but he had to fish around in his pants pocket for a pen. "Thanks, Chloe. Please tell me next time this happens, all right? Feel better. Bye."  
  
When he hung up, I touched his arm briefly. "Thanks a lot, Lex," I said gently, smiling genuinely.  
  
"No problem." He headed back to his table, cell phone already in hand.  
  
"Wait," I called out before he could dial a number. I had his attention again. "You're not going to kill anyone, are you?"  
  
A smirk and a chuckle. "You know that's not how I work, Lana. I'm simply going to teach them that it doesn't pay to mess with friends of Lex Luthor."  
  
I thought back to the time when my girlfriend was pushed through a window in Luthor Manor, and the way Lex took care of the guys who hurt her. I instinctively felt that everything would be okay eventually.  
  
MORE SOON! 


	8. Get Me Through Grey Gardens Tonight

Couple(s): ChLana, a bit of romantic ChLex (because there will always be chemistry, and I couldn't help myself.)  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Disclaimer: Everything but the plot belongs to someone other than me.  
  
Spoilers for: the same, old 'Kinetic' references because, frankly, there hasn't been much ChLex interaction since then.  
  
Author's Note: Chloe's POV. I couldn't resist; I had to do an all-ChLex chapter, though ChLana will return! (I only hope this part will fit in with the plot somehow...)  
  
This is for Marcine, since she picked up on the vibes between our favorite couple in the last chapter.  
  
Get Me Through Grey Gardens Tonight  
  
******  
  
Lana claims that I don't trust Lex. She's wrong, though I've never felt the need to set her straight. (Absolutely no pun intended.) I know that if I try to explain why I pretend to distrust and dislike him, she'll laugh. Even though, as my girlfriend, she probably won't...you can never be too careful.  
  
So, why didn't I just admit that I fully enjoy and fully trust Lex Luthor? It's simply because some part of me feels like he's humoring us; I always have a creepy feeling that he goes back to the Manor at night and laughs about how stupid we are to put our faith in him. Yes, that's a bunch of BS, but nobody said I wasn't cynical.  
  
When he called to get the names of the seniors who threatened me, I realized that he seemed to care about me as much as he claimed; he considers me a friend -- I'm not simply 'a friend of Clark' anymore -- and I'm inclined to consider the same of him. I felt *safe* knowing he was going to take matters into his hands, though I wondered if I should have been worried about his methods.  
  
Dad wasn't sure he wanted me to go back to school until after the mess was sorted out; he fretted that, even with Lex's...assistance, somebody would try something. Though I wanted to protest -- I couldn't leave the *Torch* for a day! -- my body felt heavy from exhaustion. I was in need of a break.  
  
"Thanks for understanding, Dad," I whispered, when he came to my room to say goodbye.  
  
He kissed my cheek and smiled. "Of course, sweetie; I'll let the school know before I leave. I'll try to call you around lunchtime, okay?"  
  
Rolling my eyes affectionately, I nodded. "If you must. Have a good day."  
  
"You, too. Feel better. I love you."  
  
"Love you, too." The door shut softly behind him, and I was left to my own devices. Even if I couldn't work on the *Torch* at school, I could work on the next week's edition in bed; my lap top is always handy, and there's usually a huge back-up of potential editorials.  
  
I hacked away at a future story until my stomach growled. Usually I'd ignore it until I was about to faint from starvation, but my muscles were protesting from being in the same position most of the morning. I forced myself to get up.  
  
Two Pop-Tarts and a glass of orange juice later, I was in the shower. The hot, steamy water loosened my neck -- stress and the hazards of my chosen occupation frequently tighten my muscles -- and I began to relax.  
  
Given that it was a 'hang at home without really being sick' day, I lounged around in black sweat pants and a gray t-shirt all morning. I watched some of my favorite movies -- 'Terminator', 'Airheads', and 'Single White Female' -- until there came a knock on the door.  
  
I wasn't expecting anyone, and it was only two o'clock; school wasn't out yet, and Dad certainly wouldn't leave the plant simply to check on me. Blessing our peephole, I peered through it. Lex Luthor himself stood on the porch, his arms crossed over a silky bright purple shirt.  
  
"Mister Luthor," I said, masking my curiosity with friendliness when I opened the door for him. "This is a surprise."  
  
"I hope it's a pleasant one," he retorted with a smirk, stepping inside.  
  
"No comment."  
  
That was when I noticed the single pink rose in his hand. Going from what I knew about flowers --one of my grandmothers is so obsessed with plants that she made me study her gardening books for three months. I was seven at the time, and visiting her for the summer while Dad was away, and it was really boring, but... -- I recalled that pink roses stand for 'friendship'.  
  
"Not that I'm ungrateful, but why'd you stop by, Mister Luthor?"  
  
His piercing blue eyes rolled, and he let out an exaggerated sigh. "I swear, Miss Sullivan, if I have to tell you and Miss Lang to call me 'Lex' *one more time*, I'll do something drastic." When I giggled, he frowned. After a beat, he chuckled.  
  
"Since you're here, *Lex*, want to join me for lunch?"  
  
He paused, mentally weighed his options. "Actually, I only stopped by to see how you were holding up, but I suppose it wouldn't kill me to stay." The rose was placed in my hand, and we traipsed to the kitchen.  
  
"Unless I remembered to put cyanide in the coffee I'm about to offer you," I shot back, finding a vase and filling it with water from the tap.  
  
"It won't be any worse than drinking the coffee at the Talon," he muttered wryly, dropping onto one of the chairs around our circular table. I recalled that it was the first time he'd ever been inside the house, yet he appeared perfectly comfortable, and I wasn't embarrassed by how messy the place was. Huh.  
  
"Are you insulting my girlfriend's ability to make hot caffeinated beverages?" With a grin -- I hate the stuff Lana makes, though she's fully aware of my opinion on the subject -- I set a mug of freshly-brewed java in front of him. "Cream and sugar?"  
  
"Black is fine," Lex assured me. He took a sip from his cup, smirking at the image of William Shakespeare that adorned it, then declared, "yes, I was insulting your girlfriend's ability to make coffee. In comparison to hers, this-" he raised his cup in an imaginary toast- "is imported from Asia."  
  
Sitting across from him with my own mug -- 'World's Best Niece', it read -- I grinned. "Thanks for the veiled compliment."  
  
My father's boss actually saluted me before we fell into a friendly silence. Twenty minutes passed; finally I opened my mouth for speaking purposes. "When you deal with Ron and Kevin, you aren't going to...hurt them, are you?"  
  
His silk-encased elbows rested on the tabletop. "That's the point of all this, yes? To hurt them for hurting you? To more directly answer your question, however, no, I won't cause them any sort of physical harm. I hope you know I don't work like that, anyway." Lex smiled a real, friendly smile, and I felt warm all over; he's very pretty.  
  
"Not when your father's money can accomplish so much more than murder," I said casually, then bit my tongue; I assumed he would get pissed off at me for bringing Lionel Luthor into the mess -- even 'outsiders' are fully aware that the two of them have a bizarre, love-hate thing going on.  
  
To his credit, my companion simply smirked again. "That's true."  
  
He looked at me in that intense way he has, that makes one feel he's reading one's deepest secrets. It always made me feel creepy, but that day I kind of like the sensation. "What, do I have something on my face?" When he started, I chuckled; I don't think he realizes that he does stare at people all the time.  
  
"I enjoy your company, Miss Sullivan," Lex announced bluntly.  
  
"And I yours, Mister Luthor."  
  
He bit back a full-fledged grin. "You called me 'Mister Luthor' again; I warned you."  
  
"Ah, but you called me 'Miss Sullivan'; turn about is fair play," I retorted, finding myself grinning as well. "What are you going to do, anyway? Throw me out a window?"  
  
Lex winced at that, and said, "At least you can joke about it; that's a good sign."  
  
Leaning over, I patted his head before I could stop myself. "There's nothing I *can't* make jokes about, my follicly-challenged friend." I sat back down in my seat, grinning.  
  
The words fell from his lips so bluntly that my legs would have collapsed, were I not already seated. "What if I told you that I'm attracted to you? Could you joke about that?"  
  
Dear God, I hadn't been expecting that. (Of course not, since he's Lex bloody Luthor; my father's bloody boss. My father's boss who, at twenty-one, is bloody gorgeous and...bloody hell.) "What?" I croaked, glad that I hadn't been swallowing my coffee, else I would have choked on it.  
  
"I have a...bit of a crush on you, as stupid as that sounds," Lex responded quietly, almost smirking once again.  
  
"Lex," I began, trying to keep my voice from shaking. (That was no time for 'Mister Luthor's and friendly, playful reminders to call him by his given nickname.) "Lex, are you trying to complicate things?" Leaning back, he hooked his hands behind his head, and then frowned. "Things only get complicated if you're also attracted to me, Chloe."  
  
No 'Miss Sullivan', either. He was serious. My father's boss was bloody SERIOUS about having a crush on me. Good Lord, I hate my life sometimes. "Why are you being like this?" I whispered, staring at my hands; I was afraid that if I looked at him, I'd like what I saw in his eyes, and do something wrong.  
  
His shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. "I just thought you should know, that's all. I've seen the way you look at me, anyway; maybe you've always liked me, but you used Miss Lang as a cover..." He was leaning his elbows on the table again, staring at me with an intensity that made me shiver.  
  
"I have half a mind to throw the remainder of my coffee in your face," I snapped, gripping the mug so firmly I feared it would crack.  
  
"Go ahead," he returned nonchalantly, "it won't be the first time a woman has tossed a beverage at me. Of course, the glass usually accompanies it."  
  
He was infuriating. My knuckles turned so white they almost blended with the porcelain. "I don't appreciate being hit on when you *know* I have a girlfriend, when you know I'm *happy* with said girlfriend, when you know that I love her. What the hell is your problem, anyway, Luthor?"  
  
Lex took my venomous words in stride, waiting until my breathing slowed again before he spoke. "Maybe I don't believe you and Miss Lang are truly happy."  
  
A pause passed over the room while I formulated a response; 'how the hell can you say that to me?', 'You don't know what you're talking about', and 'What are you on, you stuck-up prick?' were amongst my options. However, all I said was, "please get out," in the gentlest tone I could muster.  
  
We stood, and I walked him to the door. No apologies were exchanged -- he owed me one for what he said, while I owed him one for being nasty -- though he did smile at me. "Bye, Mister Luthor. I guess I should thank you for stopping by." The edge returned to my voice.  
  
Lex shrugged again. "Yeah, Miss Sullivan, anytime."  
  
Then his arms were winding loosely around my waist, and he was kissing me.  
  
Dear God, was it a fabulous kiss; sweet and intense and warm...  
  
Did I mention I hate my life sometimes? I did? Good.  
  
MORE SOON! 


	9. Evil Angel

Couple(s): ChLana, maybe a little ChLex  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Disclaimer: Everything but the plot belongs to someone other than me.  
  
Spoilers for: nothing  
  
Author's Note: I have no idea what will happen next -- I don't like to plan my stories ahead of time -- so it may take a while before I decide how this will go; that's why it's so bloody short. I don't think it'll end up ChLanaLex, but there's always a chance. Much chocolate cake and MR-Adina goodness to those who continually bear with me. Lana's POV.  
  
Evil Angel  
  
******  
  
Chloe was upset when she stormed into the Talon on the afternoon after she confessed the incident at the *Torch*. I knew she hadn't gone to school that day -- I didn't blame her -- but my first instinct was that something homophobia-related had happened again, anyway.  
  
"Clo?" I greeted her with a hug after I left the counter. "What is it, hon?"  
  
Her hands were balling into fists at her sides, and she was either extremely angry, or extremely close to sobbing. "Lex just kissed me."  
  
Okay. That wasn't what I'd been expecting. "He *what*? Why?" I couldn't decide whether or not I was pissed off; when she kissed Clark, I understood that she was confused, and refusing him wasn't a choice. That time, with Lex, who knew about us, I wanted to be incensed.  
  
"He said he has a crush on me, then he...kissed me. I didn't have time to react or slap him. I'm so sorry, Lana."  
  
"Did you like it?" I steered her toward the office, gently pushed her onto a chair, then shut the door.  
  
Chloe was silent for so long, staring at me with intense sadness, that my stomach turned to ice. "Yes, I did."  
  
The icy numbness moved to my legs, and I had to stumble around the desk to find the leather chair. "More than when we kiss?" I was being pathetic, I knew I was, but I had to know if she still loved me as she claimed to.  
  
"It was--different," she replied honestly, staring at her clasped hands.  
  
"Would you do it again? I want you to think about it before you answer; be sure." The sharpness in my voice didn't surprise me.  
  
Another long pause; I dug my nails into the armrests until my knuckles turned white. "Yes, I think I would."  
  
Oh, my... "That was the wrong answer," I whispered hoarsely, the anger building.  
  
Her eyes grew wide when her own words sunk in; then she was at my side, begging. "I'm so sorry! You told me to be honest! I never said I wanted to leave you for him; since he wouldn't have me, anyways. I simply said that, given the opportunity, I would kiss him again. In Truth or Dare, perhaps, or Spin the Bottle, or under mistletoe, but never of my own accord!"  
  
I almost liked hearing her so desperate; it gave me a strange sense of self-worth. "I haven't played Spin the Bottle since I was in fifth grade," I heard myself say softly. "Maybe we shouldn't see each other anymore."  
  
Did I really say that? Judging from the way her eyes widened even further, and the gasp that slipped through her lips, I knew I had. "Lana, no! Lana, I love you!" My hand was gripped in hers, and I winced; she's strong when she needs to be.  
  
"Who are you trying to convince, Chloe? Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a business to run."  
  
I left her in the office, staring after me with tears in her eyes.  
  
I hated myself for it, but it felt good.  
  
MORE WHEN I GET INSPIRED! 


End file.
